Нора Робертс - Black Rose

Still she waited until they were on their way, with the lights of Harper House behind them. “There are a couple of things I need to tell you, then I think it’d be nice if both of us put business aside for a few hours.”

“Something happen?”

“Yes. First, I had an irritating encounter at work one day recently with an acquaintance who has gold-medaled in the gossip Olympics for more than twenty consecutive years.”

“Hell of a record.”

“And she’s proud of it. It dealt with my ex-husband, and isn’t important of itself, but it upset me a bit, gave me what I call a temper headache, so I went home, took some aspirin, and decided to lie down for a few minutes. I wasn’t asleep, just sort of hovering in that nice, cozy in-between—and in my head I was out in the garden, sitting on the bench in the shade, and it was late spring.”

“How did you know it was spring?”

“Late spring, early June. I could tell by the plants, the flowers that were blooming. Then it got cold.”

She told him the rest, careful with every detail.

“This is the first dream you’ve mentioned.”

“It wasn’t a dream. I wasn’t asleep.” She gave an impatient wave of her hand. “I know people say that all the time, when theythought they were awake. I was awake.”

“All right. You should know.”

“She took me there in my mind. I felt the cold, I smelled the flowers—the white roses on the arbor—I felt the air on my skin. All the while I was aware, in another part of myself, that I was still in my room, on the bed, with the headache pounding.”

“Disconcerting.”

“You’re subtle,” she replied. “Yes, it was disconcerting. Disorienting and upsetting. I don’t like having anyone direct my thoughts. And the way she looked at me, when she opened her eyes in that grave, it was with a terrible kind of . . . love. She’s never hurt me, and I’ve never felt that she would. Until tonight.”

He pulled off the side of the road, braked hard, then turned to her. The calm she most usually saw in him, felt from him, was replaced by a percolating anger. “What do you mean? Did she attack you? For God’s sake—”

“Not me, but a very nice cashmere sweater. It was a birthday gift, so I’ve only had it since November, and I’m still mad she ruined it.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

When she had, he sat back, tapped his fingers on the wheel. “She didn’t want you coming out with me tonight.”

“Apparently not, but that’s too bad. Here I am.”

He looked at her again. “Why?”

“I said I would, and I do what I say I will. Then you can add that she made me mad, and I don’t back down, either. And lastly, I wanted to explore whether or not I’m going to like your company on a purely social level.”

“You shoot very straight.”

“I do. It irritates some people.”

“I’m not one of them. Sorry about the sweater.”

“So am I.”

“We could speculate—”

“We could,” Roz interrupted. “But I’d just as soon not, right now. She didn’t stop the evening, so I don’t see why she should drive it, either. Why don’t we talk about something else until it’s time to get down to business again?”

“Sure. What would you like to talk about?”

“I could start by wondering out loud how long you intend to sit here beside the road, and how late that’s going to make us to your son’s game.”

“Oh. Right.” He pulled onto the road again. “How about if I start this conversation off by telling you I’ve got a new cleaning lady.”

“Is that so?”

“She’s a friend of a friend of a friend. Sort of. She’s into feng shui, so she’s rearranging everything in the place—career areas, and health areas, I dunno. And making me lists for things I have to buy, like a money frog for my prosperity corner—or something. And these Chinese coins. And she says I have to have a green plant. I think it’s for the health area, I’m not sure, and I’m too afraid of her to ask. So I was wondering if I could possibly have that plant back you took from my place last spring.”

“The one you were murdering.”

“I didn’t know I was murdering it. I didn’t even know it was there.”

“Benign neglect is still neglect.”

“Hardass. How about I sign an oath to take better care of it? The fact is, she’ll be the one taking care of it, at least every other week. And you could have visitation rights.”

“I’ll think about it.”

THE AUDITORIUM WASalready packed when they arrived, and humming with pregame excitement. They moved through the noise and color and excitement, scooting down the row to their seats while both teams practiced layups on the court.

“That’s Josh there, number eight.”

She watched the tall boy in his trimmed-in-blue white jersey lope forward and tap the ball off the backboard and into the net. “Nice form.”

“He was the NBA’s number-ten draft pick. He’ll play for the Celtics next year. It’s hard for me to believe it. I’m not going to brag all night, but I had to get that one in.”

“He’s going pro? The Celtics? Brag all you want. I would.”

“I’ll keep it to a minimum. In any case, Josh is point guard, that’s the position that directs the team’s offense from the point.”

She listened, sipping the soft drink he’d bought her, as he ran through a primer of basketball terms and explanations.

At tip-off she watched the action, enjoyed the lightning movements on court, the echoing voices, the thunder of the ball on wood.

Now and again through the first quarter, Mitch would lean closer to explain a call, a strategy, or a play.

Until she got to her feet with the rest of the Memphis crowd to boo a blown call. “What, do those refs need eye surgery? We had established position, didn’t we—does he needthree feet planted on the ground? That was charging, for God’s sake. All he was missing was a Visa card!”

When she sat again, with a disgusted huff, Mitch scratched his chin. “Okay, either I’m an exceptional teacher or you know basketball.”

“I have three sons. I know basketball. I know football and baseball, and at one time I knew entirely too much about professional wrestling. But they mostly outgrew that one.” She took her eyes from the game long enough to smile at him. “But you were having such a nice time educating the little lady, I didn’t want to break your stride.”

“Thanks. Want some nachos?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

She enjoyed herself, and was amused at halftime when Josh zeroed in on his father in the crowd and grinned. More amused when the boy’s gaze drifted to her, then back to his father before Josh executed an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

And when at game’s end, the Memphis Tigers clipped Ole Miss’s Rebels by three points, she decided the experience had nearly been worth one cashmere sweater.

“You want to wait around, congratulate your boy?”

“Not tonight. It’ll be better than an hour before he gets out of the locker room, and through the groupies. I’d like you to meet him sometime, though.”

“I’d be glad to. He’s a pleasure to watch on the court, not just his style and skill—though he has plenty of both—but his enthusiasm. You can tell he loves the game.”

“Has since he was a baby.” Mitch slipped an arm around Roz’s waist to help maneuver them both through the departing crowd.

“It’ll be tough on you, him moving to Boston.”

“He’s always wanted it. Part of me wants to move up there with him, but sooner or later, you’ve got to let go.”

“Nearly killed me when my two youngest moved away. They were five years old yesterday.”

He dropped his arm, then took her hand as they crossed the parking lot. “Can I interest you in a postgame meal?”

“Not tonight. I need to get an early start in the morning. But thanks.”

“Dinner tomorrow.”

She slid a look up at him. “I should tell you getting me out of the house two nights running generally takes a team of wild horses. And I’ve got a garden club meeting tomorrow, which for personal reasons, I can’t miss.”

“The night after.”

“I sense a campaign.”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s not bad.” Not bad at all, she thought, enjoying the bracing air, and the warmth of his hand over hers. “I’ll tell you what, you can come to dinner night after next, but I’ll warn you, I’ll be cooking. David’s night off.”

“You cook?”

“Of course I cook. Not that I’m allowed to when David’s in the house, but it happens I’m a very good cook.”

“What time’s dinner?”

She laughed. “Let’s make it seven.”

“I’ll be there.” When they reached his car, he walked her to her side, then turned her around, slid his arms around her, and drew her toward him. Laid his mouth on hers in a long, lazy kiss.

She curled her hands around his arms, held on to them, to him, and let herself float on the sensation—the warmth of his body, the cool of the air, the simmering demand just under the lazy tone of the kiss.

Then he eased back, his eyes on hers, and reached around to open her door. “I did that now because I figured if I waited until I walked you to your door, you’d be expecting it. I’m hoping to surprise you, at least now and again. I don’t think it’s the easiest thing to do.”

“You’ve managed it a few times so far.”

When she slid into the car, he closed the door. And thought he might have a few more surprises up his sleeve before they were done.

HARPER COULD ANDdid spend hours a day in the grafting house without being bored or missing the company of others. The plants he worked with were an endless fascination and satisfaction to him. Whether he was creating another standard or experimenting with a hybrid, he was doing the work he loved.

He enjoyed the outdoor work as well, the grafting and propagation he performed with the field stock. He’d already selected the trees he intended to graft and would need to spend part of the week collecting his scions, and pruning the maiden trees he’d grafted the year before.

His mother left these sort of decisions up to him. The what, the how, the when. It was, he knew, a strong level of trust and confidence from her to step back and let him run that end of the show.

Then again, she’d taught him not only the basics of the work, but had instilled in him a love for what grew.

They’d spent countless hours together in the garden and greenhouse when he was growing up. She’d taught his brothers as well, but their interests had veered off where his had centered. In Harper House, in the gardens, in the work.

His college years, his studies there, had only cemented for him what would be his life’s work.

His responsibility to them—the house, the gardens, the work, and the woman who’d taught him—was absolute.

He considered it a bonus round that love and obligation so neatly united for him.

Tchaikovsky played for the plants, while through his headset his choice of classic was Barenaked Ladies. He checked his pots, making notations on his various clipboards.

He was especially pleased with the dahlias he’d grafted the previous spring at Logan’s request. In a couple of weeks, he’d bring the overwintered tubers into growth, and in spring take cuttings. In the Garden should be able to offer a nice supply of Stella’s Dream, the bold, deeply blue dahlia he’d created.

Interesting the way things worked, he thought. Through Logan and tidy Stella falling in love—and Logan showing his sentimental side over the blue dahlia Stella had dreamed of. Dreamed of, Harper thought, because of the Harper Bride.

It sort of circled around, didn’t it, back to the house, and what grew there.

There would be no Stella’s Dream without the Bride. And no Bride without Harper House. None of it, he supposed, without his mother’s steady determination to keep the house and build the business.

Since he was facing the door, he saw it open. And watched Hayley walk in.

She wouldn’t be here, either, without his mother. There would have been no beautiful, pregnant woman knocking on the door of Harper House last winter looking for work and a place to live.

When she smiled, his heart did that quick, automatic stutter, then settled back to normal again. She tapped the side of her head, and he pulled off his headset.

“Sorry to interrupt. Roz said you had some pots mature enough for me to rotate into the houseplant stock. Stella’s looking to do a winter sale.”

“Sure. You want me to bring them out?”

“That’s okay. I got boxes and a flat cart outside the door.”

“Let me check the inventory, adjust it first.” He walked down to his computer station. “Want a Coke?”

“Love one, but I’m still watching my caffeine.”

“Oh right.” She was nursing Lily, a concept that made him feel sort of warm and twisty inside. “Ah, got some water in the cooler, too.”